


Brother

by TheCookieOfDoom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dreamsharing, Fluff, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: “Bran told us about his vision,” Sansa said, putting her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “If you think it changes anything, then you’re a fool.”“Yeah, you’re always going to be our big brother. I don’t care what Bran’s visions say,” Arya said, hugging him tighter.





	Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [half_life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_life/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I haven't seen s7 except for the odd gifset, so ???

_“Jon has never been a bastard. He’s the heir to the Iron Throne.”_

There were many lords in all of Westeros, and bastard boys beyond counting, that would be overjoyed to hear those words. But when Bran found Jon in a dream that he instinctively knew was real, and told him the news, Jon felt as though his world was falling apart. So much of his life, all of it really, had been a life. Everything he’d done and gone through pointless. Growing up in Winterfell, going to the Wall, being King in the North. None of it had ever truly felt real, there was always something out of place. Now, Jon knew what it was. He had always known he wasn’t who he was supposed to be, feeling as though his life wasn’t quite right. All because he was miles away from his true home.

His family, the ones he’d thought of as brothers and sisters, weren’t. That was quite possibly the biggest shock of them all. Or perhaps it was the smallest, but the easiest for him to fixate on. The easiest for him to deal with. Easier than facing the fact he was a Targaryen, that the mother he’d always believed to be a lowborn girl was in fact lady Lyanna Stark.

It was a long journey South to see the famed Mother of Dragons. Jon was far from home in both the North and the South, nowhere near Winterfell or King’s Landing, where his grandfather had reined before going mad. Where his father would have reigned, where _he_ would have reigned, ruling over the Seven Kingdoms as he’d been born to do. Since Bran had found him in that dream three nights ago—Jon still couldn’t fathom how his brother, no _cousin_ , had come to possess his powers—he hadn’t left his cabin. He hadn’t spoken to any of his men, not even Davos. He locked himself away, needing to process.

***

“Jon needs us,” Bran told his sisters. Both looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” Arya asked.

“Did he send a raven?” Sansa asked at the same time.

“No. I spoke to him. In a dream, the other night. I told him who he truly is; Aegon Targaryen, the heir to the iron throne. Jon has never been a bastard.”

“Who are his parents, then?” Sansa asked, scowling. She knew Rhaegar must have been his father, but he had only two children. One of whom had been named Aegon, but he was the wrong age. And he was Dornish. Jon was far from Dornish.

“Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. We grew up believing Rhaegar kidnapped her, but that’s not what happened. She was in love with him, and they were married. Father knew what would happen to Jon if anyone knew who his father truly was, so he claimed Jon as his own.”

“How can we help? We’re dozens of miles away,” Arya said.

“The same way I contacted him before. I believe I know a way we can all share a dream.”

“Tonight then.”

***

That night, after the three Stark siblings drank essence of nightshade for a deep sleep, Bran cast his mind across Westeros. Jon was in the throes of a nightmare, he could feel it. Full of dragons and wildfire and white walkers. Bran soothed his mind, banishing the nightmares. Calmed, Jon’s dreams turned instead to the godswood outside of Winterfell.

“I always come here too,” Bran said. Jon looked up from where he was kneeling, head bowed in prayer. He didn’t truly pray now, he didn’t know what gods to even believe in. “The Old God’s are real, and they hear you.”

“The Lord of Light is too, apparently.” There was no other way for him to have been brought back to life by Melisandre. “You’ve gotten tall.”

“You haven’t,” Bran said, smiling, and Jon smiled too despite himself.

“Are you really here?”

“I am. Sansa and Arya can be too, if you let them.”

“How?”

“Touch the tree and think of them; they’ll come.” Jon reached out to touch the heartwood tree that Bran was leaning against, calling forth memories of the last times he’d seen the girls. At the same time, Bran reached through the roots and branches of the tree until they reached his sisters, bringing them into the dream. As soon as Arya saw Jon, she ran to him, jumping into his arms. Sansa watched from beside Bran with a smile, knowing that out of all of them, it was Arya Jon had been waiting the longest to meet. He had only just missed her before departing South.

“I’ve missed you, Jon,” she said, her voice ragged with emotion. Holding her close, Jon’s sad eyes brimmed with tears; he hadn’t known whether Arya was dead or alive for years; he’d been too afraid to ask Bran when they’d last spoken, and Sansa hadn’t known.

“I’ve missed you too, Ary. I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you safe? Are you back home in Winterfell?”

“I am. Sansa told me I got there just after you left; I had half a mind to ride after you, but someone had to stay to defend the castle. I still have Needle, too, and I’ve learned how to use it. I’m just as good a swordsman as you now; when you come home, I’ll show you. We can spar like we used to.” Gods, there was so much he had missed. His little sister was all grown up now, with a fierceness to here that hadn’t been there before. And Bran, he had grown as well, not just physically. With his powers came an aged wisdom that had no place in someone so young. They had all made their way through the seven hells and back, Jon failing in protecting them. He should have never left Winterfell. At least they were all home again, though, their childhood home offering some degree of safety that none of they had had since they left.

“Bran told us about his vision,” Sansa said, putting her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “If you think it changes anything, then you’re a fool.”

“Yeah, you’re always going to be our big brother. I don’t care what Bran’s visions say,” Arya said, hugging him tighter.

“Yeah. Father raised us together, as brothers and sisters. That’s what we’ll always be,” Bran said, coming to Jon’s either side, hugging him and Arya.

“I miss you all so much,” Jon said, his voice breaking. Wrapped in their arms, it was like being with them again.

“Then come back to us soon. Finish this war and come home, to Winterfell, where you belong,” Sansa said. Jon would always belong in the North, with them. He had the blood of the first men in his veins, and it ran thicker than whatever Targaryen blood was in him.

“I will, I promise,” Jon said, and he could feel the tug of consciousness once more as it pulled it from his siblings’ arms. He woke with a newfound strength, and finally left his cabin to be met with Dragonstone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is fic 99, and the winner for the 100th fic is........... barracuda! hmu, 5k of whatever you want is yours to claim!


End file.
